


Carry On, My Wayward ... Ineffables....

by INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel/Human Relationships, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Men of Letters Bunker, Cliffhangers, Crossover, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has Long Hair (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crowley Tempts Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Snake Tongue (Good Omens), Destiel is life, Hair-pulling, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sauntering Vaguely Downwards (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), ZiraCrow is Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27960251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon/pseuds/INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon
Summary: Dean and Castiel are settling into the bunker for a short vacation and some almost-honeymoonish-fun times while Sam's away on a hunt.Unexpected arrivals change their plans... for the better....A crossover fic between Supernatural and Good Omens, porn with plot and emotions: takes place around 2014 in Supernatural timeline, and 2020 in Good Omens timeline (work with me....)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Hunter's Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes:
> 
> sleepy morning sex  
> dominance and submission dynamics  
> heavy top/bottom energy  
> praise kink  
> hair pulling
> 
> This chapter is told from Castiel's point-of-view.
> 
> Disclaimer: Swoonie writes hot-smanging smootery; it is recommended to have your choice of hydration and a quiet place to enjoy the bois found herein. 
> 
> Enjoy responsibly, but do enjoy!

The blankness of sleep faded as calloused fingertips dragged teasing warmth up Castiel’s flank; his spine flexed, his stomach brushing forward against the harder, sculpted planes of Dean’s abs. He melted closer to the hunter, tightening his arms around Dean’s torso and sighing against his lover’s stubble-coated neck. 

Dean’s voice rasped, his lips soft on Castiel’s forehead as he whispered, “Mornin’, Angel…”

Cas let his own voice be softer, smoother, than it usually was, hoping Dean would catch his drift. “Good morning, Dean…” He trailed his lips toward Dean’s collarbone and back up to his jaw, scooching closer until their thighs met under the rumpled blankets.

Dean lunged, trapping both of Castiel's thighs with his own more muscular limbs, and Cas let himself be turned more onto his back, pinned under the hunter as their eyes met. 

Castiel’s eyes dropped to Dean’s lips as the man began to speak, an avalanche of rumbles and gravel in an earthquake.

“The best morning in a long time, Cas… No Sammy in the bunker to get up my ass about how much time I’m spending playing with yours…”

Castiel let his lips tilt into a teasing smile as he remembered: yes, it was true, the younger Winchester brother was going to be gone for at least a week, dealing with a fledgling rougarou far to the northwest. Angel and Hunter would have the whole vast warren of rooms to themselves….

He begged with his lip between his teeth until Dean took his mouth in his own, lowering his panther-lean body to the angel’s softer frame until every tingling point on Castiel’s front met its match on the hunter’s torso and hips:

Nipples

Navel

Knees

Cocks.

Castiel pushed and writhed,  _ just _ enough, and Dean pressed him harder into the mattress, one hand clawing its way up from Castiel’s hip to latch into his hair. Zings of pain danced with the tingling burn of friction elsewhere on his body, and he gasped around Dean’s lips, the taste of the man like whisky and cinnamon and honey in his throat.

“Please…”

As he always did, Dean responded with a quiet grunt of agreement and one last peck to the center of Castiel’s lower lip. The angel did love that about the man: he wouldn’t waste words when actions would better serve the purpose.

He also loved how  _ good _ a lover Dean was…

Castiel’s legs were effortlessly positioned over the shelf of Dean’s hips in the same moment fingers found their target between the angel’s cheeks; the deeper, slow-wash ripples of pleasure from kissing were replaced with sharper spikes of ecstasy that demanded submission to their song, and the angel refused to resist. 

He danced to the tune Dean played upon his intimate parts, his sensitive spaces, and he sighed in delight as the man between his legs prepared him with spit and lubricant and their own fluids combined…

“Cas, do you have any idea how damn beautiful y’are?”

The angel’s hips bucked, hard; he whined, his eyes squeezing shut, and twisted his head back and forth on the pillow, the rough burn against his scalp adding to his enjoyment as Dean’s fingers stretched his opening carefully, firmly, lovingly.

“How your ribs shine when ya get a little sweaty…” A slick hand stroked over his heaving chest, and Castiel threw his hands above himself to grip the headboard; the wood creaked, and he felt his spine  _ slink _ as the hand flattened over his stomach. 

“How you blush all the way down to your cute little nipples…” The hand ran back up, wide-spread fingers brushing over both of his peaks and forcing the angel to writhe. 

“How you open for me so nicely; how you always want me, how it’s never enough…” 

The fingers left his pulsing channel, and his lover’s cock replaced them: they groaned together, words fleeing as pleasure sang between their bodies as they joined.

Castiel’s feet latched behind his lover’s tight-clenched ass, holding their bodies close together as Dean pressed forward, leaning over the angel until stubble scraped and teeth left marks. Cas trembled, his muscles feeling far too weak as Dean kissed and nibbled all over his cheek and neck. Skin and muscle slid together and rubbed apart; raspy whispers sent the angel soaring higher than heavenly grace and falling harder than mortal sin.

“So good for me, Cas. So warm, so tight. I feel so close to you like this. Can you feel how much I love you…?”

A shudder was the only answer he could give. Of course he could feel Dean’s love; he’d always known, he’d loved him from the first….

Dean’s hips flexed, tender strokes so gentle from a man so hardened by his life and deaths and losses. Castiel felt his lover’s soul, the purest truths of this man kept safe between their bodies:

Dean could only be who he truly was with his angel, and Castiel felt honored like a god himself by Dean’s loving trust.

The hunter’s thrusts sped up, his teeth knocking against Cas’ jaw, and the angel turned his head, finding Dean’s ear and flexing his tongue against the lobe.

“I love you, Dean….”

Dean’s gasp ground out into an earthy rumble as the man captured Castiel’s lips, hips pumping and flexing as he lost his control, spilling within the angel’s depths. Castiel relished the burning sensation, the mingling of mortality and his own grace for the bare seconds before the innate so-called miracle of his corporation dissolved the essence of his lover’s pleasure. He sighed, happy enough for the moment in having been what Dean needed, once again.

\-----

Castiel entered the atrium of the bunker to the dark scent of coffee and the sunlight scent of cheese and eggs. He drank in the sight of Dean smiling over two plates of omelets, toast, and jam; he let his lips curve slightly as Dean eyed him up and down, tongue peeking out to moisten his lips before the hunter lifted his coffee to obscure the signs of his pleasure. 

“When I said you could borrow something of mine, I didn’t expect you to go for frump, Cas.”

Castiel stroked his hand down the fuzzy panel of the knitted sweater as he slid onto a chair at the island. “It feels nice. It feels like vacation.”

Dean chuckled, and they lifted their forks to start on breakfast.

A mini-nova of blazing white and gleaming chromium exploded with a muffled  _ thwumph _ on the lower level of the atrium; rustling and shuffling sounds, terrified whispers and teary-sounding gasps rose in the half-silence as the light faded.

Castiel’s blade was in his hand, and Dean’s gun was extended before him; they stalked to the railing separating them from unknown intruders with power to pass the bunker’s wards.

Castiel thought briefly that maybe vacation wasn’t all it was cracked up to be after all….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> I've written rather a lot for the Lore Olympus fandom, and a few other fandoms, but this is my first fic for Supernatural and Good Omens, both. I do write a lot of Men-loving-Men content, as well as what I call "Strange-form Intimacy," which is basically anything that isn't purely human. If you're interested, feel free to peruse the rest of my ish. 
> 
> Comment mods are active to reduce my own anxiety. Thank you for understanding. I do love comments; I've just received some flack before, and this makes it easier to handle. 
> 
> Finally, my thanks go to AnArdentChangeling for being my beta for this fic. My regular betafeeshy isn't caught up on SPN or GO, so I had to outsource a touch, and this choice was.... wonderful. Changeling, your hype is welcome, and your insight more so!


	2. Angel's Snake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes 
> 
> dominance and submission dynamics  
> heavy top/bottom energies  
> hair pulling  
> praise kink  
> dirty talk  
> a wee bit of brattiness  
> bondage, including implement-based and honor variants  
> corporation presentation switching mid-scene (Crowley starts off with a penis and testicles, and swaps to vulva and vagina)
> 
> and finally,   
> some peril...
> 
> This chapter is told from Crowley's POV.

All was quiet in the house; the softly murmuring fire in the gleaming marble hearth kept things comfortably warm, just enough that Crowley’s muscles felt loose under his skin. The heavy velvet curtains over the windows muffled the intermittent noises of Bishops Cleve proper outside the yellow brick house on Tobyfield Road. Crowley would have been more than happy to follow Aziraphale anywhere, but the angel was incorrigible where his precious books were concerned. 

This house backed directly onto the Bishops Cleve Public Library, and when a senior-level position had opened  _ just _ when they were looking to get out of London, nothing short of another apocalypse would have kept the enthusiastic celestial away. 

Crowley slitted open one eye and  _ peeked _ at his angel, seated in a plushy velvet armchair near the hearth, his legs crossed at the knee with one slipper dangling negligently from his foot. Aziraphale turned a page in his book, the crackle of aged paper somehow tantalizing in the warm dimness of their lounge, and Crowley licked his lips. He closed his eyes before Aziraphale would catch him peeking, and flexed his fingers around the chain-links stretched between his wrists. The metal clinked, just enough, and Crowley  _ felt _ Aziraphale’s attention shift to him.

“How are you doing, darling?” Zira’s voice was soothing, a melodic mutter filled with affection, and Crowley swallowed it down like wine. 

“‘M’fine, Angel; perfectly fine…” 

“Good. I’m almost done with this chapter. Behave, and we’ll get to the rest when I’m through.”

“Mmhmmnk…” Crowley gulped down his want; Zira wasn’t done with the chapter yet, just a while longer…

Crowley let the warmth and darkness lull his eagerness, let it melt him onto the velvet-topped desk instead of turning him hungry. He cherished each slow-to-come page crackle, every soft sigh as the angel he always needed devoured the novel word by word, line by line. 

_ Crackle _ . Crowley’s nipples began to tingle in the arid warmth.

_ Shhnick.  _ His back prickled with a thin layer of sweat on the felted desktop.

_ Flackmph _ . He rolled his ankles, relished the way his legs shifted  _ just enough _ on the fuzzed surface, the way the cuffs bumped his heels and tugged on his shins. 

_ Crackle. _ His cock throbbed, and his gut clenched; he swallowed. He would not give in to the temptation to beg. 

_ Flick-shhhhhh. _ His Zira had told him to wait patiently, and he would.

_ Shhhh-fwumphh. _ Crowley would behave, and then his angel would finally pay attention to him…

“Well done, Crowley dear. Well done indeed.” The angel’s voice was soft, pleased; it was the same tone he used when he thanked the chef at the sushi bar. Respect. Desire. 

Hunger…

_ Thump, pad-pad-pad. _ Crowley opened his eyes to Zira’s heaven-sent gaze running up and down the trembling lines of his body. That bloody book was nowhere in sight, and Crowley could have wept for joy at that. When velvet fingers stroked along his ribs, Crowley couldn’t keep from whining, begging wordlessly for more. Zira cocked one eyebrow, his bow-tie hanging loose to either side of two artfully undone buttons, stray platinum curls peeking through the slackened opening beneath his throat. 

“Please, Angel…” Quieter than the fire, softer than feathers.

“Always, darling.” One thumb began to flick over Crowley’s left nipple, and the other hand held two fingers pillar-straight before the demon’s lips. He opened his mouth, whimpering delightedly as Aziraphale laid his fingers atop Crowley’s flexing tongue; he struggled to keep from  _ shifting _ out of reflex. With his  _ other _ tongue-shape, he’d be able to taste Zira’s fingers that much more, that much  _ better _ , but after the first time he slipped up without warning months ago…

Well, that many feathers and the half-heart-attacks of hundreds of eyeballs suddenly  _ everywhere _ weren’t worth it again…

Aziraphale’s thumb and index began pinching and twisting around Crowley’s nipple now, and the other fingers were flexing rhythmically against his ribs, almost like a massage. Crowley slithered slightly, wishing Zira had more hands; the rest of his body was screaming for attention, so he sucked and laved harder at Zira’s fingers inside his mouth, urging and encouraging with all the tricks he knew from millennia as the very soul of temptation.

The angel retrieved his fingers after another few moments: moments where Crowley watched with a sense of distant pride as alabaster cheeks blushed an almighty rose, as heavenly azure eyes began to glow with something nearly holy. Crowley licked his lips luxuriously, until Aziraphale smirked, and his shining fingers fell to the buttons below his navel. Crowley’s mouth fell open, his eyes tracing the ridge and bulges beneath Zira’s slowly working fingers.

The angel pinched his nipple hard and Crowley gasped, ripping his eyes back to Aziraphale’s face, clawing his hands around the chain between his wrists for good measure.  _ Glory!  _ How he wanted to touch, to worship, to beg…

Zira’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he began to whisper in that melodic murmur Crowley adored. “Do you want this, you beautiful creature? Do you want this cock in your mouth? Do you want to choke, to drool all over it until I’m soaked to the balls?” 

Everything in Crowley’s torso seized up as his angel spoke.  _ Iniquity _ ! No angel from Upstairs should be able to dirty talk like  _ that _ . The first time Zira’d tried it, Crowley’d basically lost his mind, blacked out and everything. He was more used to it now, but it still…  _ did things _ to him, and Zira knew that and took thorough advantage of it whenever he could. Crowley nodded, his hair knotting on the felted desktop, snarling behind his neck but that didn’t matter now: not if he could have his angel’s warmth between his lips. 

“Good boy, Crowley. Be good and sweet for me, and I’ll make sure you get everything you want.” Zira worked a swift miracle, undoing his trousers and pulling his thick cock into the open. Flushed peach at the tip and wet to gleaming, it was gorgeous and Crowley strained his neck, his shoulders trembling, to get his lips that much closer all the quicker. Aziraphale stepped toward the table, closing the distance, and Crowley moaned in happiness as the angel’s shaft parted his lips. The heavy weight flattened his tongue, starlight curls tickled the tip of his nose, and Zira’s hand flattened over his peaked nipple as the angel sighed in pleasure. 

“That’s lovely, darling; my, that’s…” The words trailed off to nothing as Aziraphale’s hips flexed slowly back and forth, and Crowley peeked upward from the corners of his eyes to see the angel’s head tilted back. As Crowley watched, the knob in Zira’s throat bobbed, and the angel’s still-damp fingers found their way to the back of Crowley’s skull, cradling and lifting him so Zira could plunge deeper as his hips found a rhythm. 

Aziraphale rolled his head forward again, meeting Crowley’s eyes, and the demon was sure he would discorporate at the adoration he saw in those lapis gems. “You’re so good at that, sweet thing. You take me so well, and I love how you use your tongue.” Crowley swirled his tongue, flexed and wriggled it; if his angel loved it, he’d do it all. “Yes, like that, darling. Mmmmmmm… Could you go ahead and split it for me? I think I’d like that tonight…”

Crowley whimpered, happy his angel knew him so very well. He’d been tingling and itching in this skin all day, feeling like he needed a shift, and even if he never said, somehow Zira always knew. He let his tongue shift and put the forked tip to immediate use: snaking it around the angel’s thickness, tickling it at the underside of the glans, teasing the slit…

“Goodness, darling, yes, mmmmm…” Zira’s eyes opened wider, staring at the way Crowley’s lips stretched around his cock; could he tell what Crowley was doing from the outside, or was he simply enjoying the way Crowley’s mouth was becoming swollen? Wide fingers ran down Crowley’s heaving stomach, stopping above his aching shaft and pressing into his pelvis. Crowley huffed through his nose, shivering a little all over as the angel’s touch melted his very bones. 

Zira’s fingers dug into Crowley’s skin and tightened in the wavy hair on the back of his head; it was the only warning Crowley had before Zira began to fuck his mouth in earnest. Their eyes locked, and Crowley knew better than to look away. 

He needed to see, needed to feel it in his bones, in whatever was left of his soul:

Aziraphale loved pleasure, loved to feel Crowley’s body around his, and Crowley would swear it before the Almighty Themself: he could see that love like starlight in those gleaming sapphire eyes.

Crowley swallowed as the angel used the depths of his throat for his pleasure; he drooled, slurping intermittently to beg for more; he clung to the chains between his wrists for dear life, resisting every instinct to pull his hands forward and rip Zira’s clothes from him just so he could touch all that soft holiness. 

The angel slowed, and Crowley hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard, demanding Aziraphale continue. Zira’s fingers tightened in his hair in response. Crowley winced in pain-pleasure, relaxing and waiting for whatever the angel had in mind. Aziraphale panted for a moment and stopped thrusting entirely. “... Darling, what do you want tonight, hmm? My hand on you, or  _ in _ you?”

Crowley hummed, realizing Zira was right once again. He didn’t want to feel the angel stroking him: he wanted to feel him everywhere  _ inside  _ his body. Crowley shifted his corporation’s effort with a thought, and Zira’s fingers immediately traveled lower, parting his labia and teasing his entrance.

“Good, darling. That’s my good boy…” Zira watched Crowley’s eyes carefully at that, for confirmation, and he smiled like sunrise when the fallen angel blinked once.  _ Yes _ , signals long-familiar and well-used. “Good boy, so eager and wet for me. I wonder, will one finger be enough for you tonight?” The angel began thrusting into Crowley’s mouth again as the promised finger slipped into Crowley’s body. Crowley trembled in every muscle as his walls contracted around the invasion; it wasn’t enough, so he sucked and moaned around Zira’s cock, pleading for more by pleasing his angel  _ more _ .

“Not enough? Of course not; my good boy can take a lot more than one little finger, can’t he?” Crowley nodded; well, as much as the hand in his hair and the cock in his throat would allow, but he knew Zira got the message. Two fingers pressed in and curled upward, and thick knuckles bumped his clitoris. Crowley keened before his throat was abruptly filled with cock; he held his breath as Zira ground against his face, the angel breathing hard enough that Crowley felt the gusts on his sweaty forehead. 

“That’s right, Crowley; you can take so much more. You’re so good for me, darling. You wait for me, all delectable and tempting like a banquet of desserts, all for me. You’re so patient, so sweet.” A third finger, a swift thrust, a punishing grind. “So divine, so precious, my darling Crowley, my beautiful boy!” 

Aziraphale’s fingers thrust in and out of Crowley’s body, hard and fast, and his cock matched the tempo. Crowley’s nose felt mashed flat by the punishment, his chin felt sticky and gross, and his throat felt raw, but he kept his tear-filled eyes on the angel’s reddened face as Zira used him mercifully and well. It was easy to ignore the building storm of his own orgasm; he would stay here, this way, forever if his angel would keep looking at him with such love and desire in his gemstone eyes. 

Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s hair again, locking his hips to the demon’s face and grinding as he fell over the edge. The fingers in Crowley’s core twitched randomly as the angel climaxed down Crowley’s throat, and he twitched too as his own arousal was suddenly arrested on a plateau of unfulfilled pleasure. Crowley’s happiness at pleasing his angel warred with his corporation’s own rampant desires, now; surely, Zira wouldn’t leave him unsatisfied?!

Aziraphale finally pulled Crowley off his cock, panting and gasping all the while. Crowley swallowed a time or two, his eyes pleading wide and silent for the angel’s mercy. 

Zira smiled, and Crowley felt the shine of it shimmer over his body like a blessing. “Of course, darling. Four ought to do the trick, I think…” 

And four fingers replaced three, and Crowley screamed as pleasure swallowed him like heavenly light…

* * *

Crowley hummed as Zira tugged the blankets up and draped their bodies in soothing softness. He nuzzled into the silk of the angel’s sleep-shirt; no matter how often he demonstrated by his own example, the stuffy celestial still refused to sleep in the nude. 

Oh well; at least it wasn’t winter. Crowley couldn’t stand the  _ flannel _ . His cock (back again, because he felt like he might need it to tease an angel in the morning, you never know) well remembered how  _ irritating _ that damn flannel could be… In fact, he needed to put a secret reminder in his phone tomorrow; toss the things out with the rubbish  _ before _ autumn rolled in again, or he might not make it through another - 

An ear-splitting  _ CRASH  _ tore their bedroom door and the wall it was set in apart; wood and plaster went flying everywhere, and in the fog of dust left behind, a half dozen winged beings stood silhouette in shadow, bared celestial-steel and a multitude of eyes all glowing holy and deadly in the murk.

Crowley couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. How had they found them?! They’d done nothing to draw attention, no untoward miracles; they hadn’t even said any  _ names _ in months, for Anyone’s sake!

“Crowley, hold on!” Aziraphale’s body wrapped in softness and silk around Crowley’s body, and another blinding light that burned against whatever was left of his soul swallowed them both.

_ Black. Nothing. What…? _

**_Thud._ **

_ Grey. Hazy. Where…? _

_ “Crowley…? Darling, can you hear me…? Look at me, dear, please...!” _

_ … Angel… _

_ … My Angel… _

_ … _

_ … _

_... _

_ … Aziraphale... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
> 
> ....
> 
> I know....
> 
> What can I say, I love my trauma-drama....
> 
> I did want to say the yellow house on Tobyfield Road in Bishops Cleve that backs up against the Library is REAL according to Google Street View - I didn't grab the actual street address, but I couldn't resist pulling a little real-world into mai-bois' world...
> 
> This chapter is currently unbeta'd due to schedule inconsistencies; it may be updated/edited in future, and if so, notes will be provided....
> 
> Thanks for reading, comment if you feel so inclined, stay tuned, and I'll see you again hopefully pretty soon!  
> ONWARD, INEFFABLES!
> 
> Much love,  
> -Swoonie  
> 18 February 2021


End file.
